


marijuana breath

by rusticlace



Series: cannabliss; nct oneshots [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Drinking, F/M, FML, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Johnny gets jealous, Johnny is ur bff, Multi, NCT hyung line is in a gang, Parties, RIP, Romance, Slow Burn, Smoking, Taeil is part of Johnny's clique, but he is also shit at expressing himself, but kinda likes you, confused af, everyone is confused, im always like this fml, kinda gang!au, omymymymy, or sexual attraction i have no idea, takes place in chicago, takes you for granted, the teenagery stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 17:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusticlace/pseuds/rusticlace
Summary: Everyone loves Seo Youngho because he's that cool kid cliche that jumped out of a best-selling romance book. You are no exception.Enter Moon Taeil with the charming eyes and seductive smiles.You think you're kinda done for, but it's only the beginning of an emotional roller-coaster that only goes up.





	marijuana breath

**Author's Note:**

> i've only been on ao3 for two days  
> two fucking days istg  
> inspired by Long Nights and Daydreams by SOMETHINREAL
> 
> marijuana breath's [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1yDRiC5RLRIfQga0QNvk7c)

 

❝ _he tasted like cigarettes and strawberry  
_—a_ nd everything went down_ ❞

 

 

You had no idea what to make of dear ol' John Seo.

Maybe except for being a typical cool kid who sacrificed his lungs just to keep up with his little social standing. Still, he had once made his stand that smoking really just ran in his family (as if that was a good excuse) and he'd had his first smoke at eight, to which his father had let out the proudest of laughs and told little Johnny that ' _you'll go places, my boy_ '.

It sounded absolutely ridiculous to you—if you ever picked up smoking, your father would throw you out of the fucking house and let you freeze to death—but months after he'd enlightened you on the reason he smoked (which would always sound stupid to you), you had walked into his apartment, kicked your tall heels off, dropped onto his couch and lit up your first cigarette.

He never asked why, knowing you'd probably snap at him and use him to vent whatever frustration you were withholding.

Until now, he still hadn't bothered to ask you what actually happened that day—it was a phase: You cared too much and he didn't—Seo Youngho had no place in his heart for love, and you always felt lacking.

"You're thinking. "

"Is it a bad thing? " You smiled, thumbing the soft material of his sleeve as he lit up his cigarette with the unoccupied hand. The bright amber of burnt tobacco fell with the gentlest movements he made.

"Not entirely. Unless you're fawning over that transfer kid—what's his name? Yukhei? " He let out a deep chuckle, drawing out grey clouds of smoke into the bitter cold. You shook your head, fingers crawling around his wrist as you took in the silent midnight filled with him, you and the lurking monstrosity that stalked suburban Chicago.

No, you never thought of Yukhei once whilst their little stroll; Yukhei was of little significance in comparison to Youngho.

You just wished he knew.

"Are you ever going to tell me about what you've been thinking? " Youngho teased when the both of you made a corner turn, walking into the street that lead you further away from downtown and into the land of youth groups, violence, booze raves and the likes.

"Not now, Youngho. Not now. "

It was not like you could bring yourself to tell Seo Youngho that you'd been thinking of you and him on his worn-out couch, burning cigarettes and watching The Great Gatsby. Drowning afterwards, in honeyed words and longing touches—such only happened once:

Your birthday, spent alone after getting dumped. He had climbed up the pipe of your house and sneaked into your room with bags of treats and alcohol, and you were all the more thankful that you both were friends. Yet, however fluffy the whole ordeal had started, it came to an end with a sinister bang—the adrenaline rush and unspoken frustrations came out in flowering bruises, bright scratches and swollen lips. The taste of tobacco and strawberry sugar lingering in your mouth the morning after and the fleeting image of him burning dominance into your pale neck haunted you.

He never spoke of it again, and you were left disappointed because you knew you would never feel whole again. Not without his plush lips, hooded eyes, strong hands on your back as he greedily nipped at your lips—

Not without him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Everything was so difficult to grasp all at once—one second, you had been laughing with a few of Youngho's friends about how the host was too cheap to supply cold, hard liquor, and the next you see Youngho pushing a boy out of the door, teeth still tight against the stick of his strawberry sucker.

"I fucking told you not to test my patience! " You heard him snarl at the boy beneath him, watching as a bunch of kids that maintained the same aura as the kid Youngho had picked on stalked towards the commotion caused. You did the same, running to grab ahold of Youngho before he could hurt the boy anymore.

"Youngho, please... let's just go home, " you sighed, fingers tight around his wrist as he edged closer into a state of bloodlust that you could not bear to watch. He stilled himself, yet he never backed down.

The rest of his gang had already ran out of the rave to back him up. And even Moon Taeil—timid, sensible Moon Taeil who made the best drinks and had the purest of smiles had ditched his freshman persona for leather jackets and switchblades.

You knew you weren't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to watch Doyoung's precious teeth clench together in annoyance, wasn't here to see Taeyong's soft appearance harden with tensed brutality—you didn't sign up for this when you first went up to Johnny Seo on a warm April, three years ago. Yet, you still remained, trapped between reality and social expectations, always expected to live within both realms when they were a thousand miles apart.

"Youngho, please. I want to go home, " you tried again, but he had already gone too far into his play pretends—of violence and cigarettes and cool kids; bad boys and their alternative habit of tobacco and strawberry suckers—and it was only when Jungwoo pried you off Youngho, pulled you away from him did everything come to you and fall apart.

The next Friday, you had Jungwoo over to watch The Great Gatsby.

It felt different.

"You should talk to him. It's been a week, Y/N. " Jungwoo brought up rather suddenly, in between fingers sticky with caramel and some cheesy teen flick you vaguely remembered from a party's movie screening. You looked up at him, almost disappointed but not quite, scooping a handful of popcorn for yourself. 

"He didn't listen to me, " you mumbled, stuffing the handful into your mouth. You really didn't want to talk about Youngho, but then you knew it was inevitable that Jungwoo would drag out the elephant in the room.

"His pride was on the line, you out of all of us should know best that he would never let down from a fight. He couldn't, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less, " he reasoned, yet the only thing you felt was resentful—because Jungwoo had it better. He had Doyoung, and Doyoung was nothing but sweet and affectionate and so in love with him. And Johnny, oh Johnny—

"He doesn't love me. Never did, and never will. "

Jungwoo let out a soft ' _oh_ ', almost as if he felt sympathetic, and you wondered where all the fucking cigarettes were when you needed them.

To hell with this whole world, to hell with Seo Youngho and his stupid desperation to remain in a world of violence and alcohol and drugs—this world in which you no longer wanted to have anything to do with.

"I'm afraid to love Dongyoung, but I can't help it. " And for the first time, sunny, optimistic Kim Jungwoo sounded aggrieved, and you knew that no matter how loving Doyoung could be, he would be no different from Youngho.

They were the same, and all you and Jungwoo could really do was watch from afar and despair.

"Oh. "

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Friday after played itself out in an entirely different manner again:

Instead of Yuta's oversized sweater from last week, you found yourself borrowing Sicheng's leather jacket with all its pretty silver chains, slinging it over your black shirt as you threw yourself onto Ten's lap. He groaned in protest, but you only reached out for his red cup and stole small sips of rum and coke (it was like rum and a drip of coke), gagging at how overpowering the rum was.

"It tastes cheap, " you complained, looking back at him.

"Y/N, rum is cheap, " he said, a look of complete disbelief on his face. "You're unusually clingy today. "

You giggled, the electronic music washed out as you felt the alcohol entering your systems.

"Johnny-cake isn't here to take care of his baby girl, that's why, " Taeyong butted in and you rolled your eyes, shoving the cup into Ten's hands.

"Bitch, " you growled, "where's your daddy, huh? " You mocked, pettiness lacing your every word as you attempted to stare Taeyong down. Ten's laughter sounded behind you, but it began to feel distant the moment the front door opened, and in walked Seo Youngho with all the goddamned confidence and cockiness of this world. His Marlboro hung lit from the corner of his pink lips, and as expected, the crowd shifted to let him through, into the house.

You scoffed at all the unspoken rituals, rolling your eyes for the second time tonight.

"Wanna bail? " Taeyong asked, slightly concerned, but you couldn't care less about Johnny now. You just came here for a good time, and you were getting it.

"Not a chance, " you flashed him a sultry smirk, giggling afterwards when you stood up to straighten your ripped jeans before dragging Ten away to dance. You heard your partner complain about how Animals had been playing for the past three weeks, but you laughed it off and grabbed his hands and began dancing. The both of you ended up in a dance rave that Ten had unintentionally started in whoever the fuck's backyard this was. And while Tove Lo was on the table, Taeyong had came out to watch the both of you grinding against each other, movements always just as loud and in sync.

Taeyong had been at the corner watching until Troye Sivan started playing, and he decided that he could no longer stand to just witness the both of you have fun without him.

By midnight (and some sort of miracle), you'd forgotten that Johnny Seo existed.

"Hear me out, Chittaphon, " you started, catching yourself for a brief moment to giggle ( _the audacity_ , Ten scorned). "But we all know  _I_  was the one who killed that move during New Heroes. "

"Are you hearing yourself—Taeil! Did you hear her! God, why do I even— " Ten huffed in annoyance, shooting Taeil an incredulous look to which the older man laughed off and went back to mixing up drinks. You faked a sigh to show how upset you were at Ten's incompetence and lack of sportsmanship, shoving him aside to get to the table Taeil was at.

Cocking your head to the side, you flashed Taeil a sweet smile, swiping the drink out of his hand when you had his full attention. He protested a little late, but still watched you as you brought the rim of the shot glass to your lips, directing a less than innocent wink at him before downing everything at one shot. The drink was sweet and slid down your throat like the smoothest of silk—Moon Taeil was indeed a Jack of this trade.

"It's a Rainbow, " he informed, picking up his keys that he'd previously ditched to the side of the table.

"You're going already? " you whined.

"Do you want me stay? " He took a small step to close the distance between the both of you, grabbing your sides to hold you in place as he leaned into your side, brushing his chapped lips softly against the already flushed skin of your cheek. You mentally cursed yourself for losing your cool so instantly under his strong grip and soft lips; his words as light as fairy dust, yet echoing loudly and heavily in your ear:

"You know you just have to ask nicely, and I'm all yours. "

And suddenly you were dizzy from the thick cologne Taeil had on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Let's just go home, ok? "

Taeyong was pleading, a drastic cry from the rugged hood he had been weeks ago. You wondered where that side of him went—must have been out of the window the moment he let himself think you were glass.

"Look, Y/N, you're not thinking straight. " The grip on your wrist was thin, warm, and faintly familiar—the same way it was with Johnny. As if you could not get enough of  déjà vu, you stilled, avoiding Taeyong's desperate gaze. You heard Taeil again; just tonight, he had came up to you, pretty and intoxicating and almost lethal—switchblades and leather jackets, almost like temptation, but with the mildest intentions.

He was sensible, but not enough to back down from a fight.

"Leave her be, Taeyong. "

It was as of you'd been waiting to fall into this role, to belong here—you smashed the empty glass bottle of cherry soda against the picket-white fence and edged the sharp ends towards the pale boy just as Johnny had taught you:

Towards him, and away from you.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You loved the way Seo Youngho tasted like cigarettes and his favorite strawberry suckers; remembered that night that he smiled at you, asking "light my cigarette? ", and leaning down to your height—

"What the hell happened?! " The authority and anger in Youngho's voice made you shrink even more, as if being crumpled up in the middle of the road, laying besides the busted bottle of cherry pop covered in fresh blood wasn't bad enough. Taeyong was choking up the whole story, Ten watched with a few others, cigarette drooping from the corner of his lips, seemingly unimpressed, and Taeil—

You didn't know. You were spinning.

He wanted to know what the hell happened; why the hell was his best friend screwing with his turf—probably. He didn't even check if you were okay, or even  _breathing_. You were shaking too much from the sudden cold to pay any heed to whatever the hell he was screaming his head off about. It was too difficult to understand what Seo Youngho wanted from you—you fought, and you didn't.

He was unsatisfied.

"Enough! " You heard Taeil raise his voice for the first time, tossing his cherry soda aside and pacing towards you with Jungwoo. "You've said enough, Johnny. We're taking her home. "

Jungwoo had swept you up with ease, holding your head close to his chest as you broke down, grabbing a fistful of his shirt with your bruised hand, leaving soft-hearted Jungwoo an absolute wreck.

"It's ok, it's ok. We'll go home, ok? "

You nodded, hiding your face in his chest as you felt Taeil drape his leather jacket over your trembling self.

Seo Youngho said nothing, only stared sadly at you as you disappeared into the darkness of the unlit street.

Sighing, he drew out a cigarette and lit it up.

Like clockwork, you smiled back in his mind, responding with a shy " _but of course_ ".

 

 

* * *

 

 

Taeil was stroking your face placidly, hand warm against your paled skin. You looked like a mess under your duvet, especially since your face was puffy from all the crying you'd done.

"It's okay to cry, you know, " he comforted, eyes never leaving yours as he brushed a few strands of your hair out of your face. He was a man full of surprises, you figured—first, it'd been that shameless flirt with the entire of his confidence that held you down, then there was that Taeil with the switchblade, leather jacket cliche backing you up. And now, you were left with Moon Taeil, stripped down (you hoped) until only his conscience was there for you to see. 

He surprised and intrigued you, made you wonder which side of him you should trust entirely. Or maybe none of these sides could be trusted at all.

"Haven't I cried enough? " Your voice was still hoarse and unsteady. You let Taeil run his fingers down the side of your face, quietly desperate for affection since it was clear you lacked it.

"I'm just saying you know, " he joked lightly, bringing a thin smile to your face.

You figured, maybe you liked Moon Taeil as a person, regardless of who he chose to portray himself as—maybe he was all of those things at once; maybe that was what made him, _him_.

"Thank you, you know, for supporting me just now, " you finally said after a long silence ensued. The careful fingers on your face moved away to card themselves through his red locks of hair, tugging at them slightly as he mumbled out a polite "you're welcome ". You missed his touch almost immediately—the fingertips that traced lightly against your skin, it felt different from the fire of Youngho's touch, and you couldn't decide which one you liked better.

The both of you remained there for a period of time, looking at everywhere but each other. Finally, Taeil stood up from the beside your bed, and at the same time you pushed yourself to sit up.

"I'll take my leave now. Have a good night. "

He was brief. Turned away swiftly, and was about to walk away—you reached out a grabbed his wrist, and said: "Stay with me. "

"Please. "   

And then he laughed, albeit giddy, because you remembered what he had told you earlier that night.

 _"You know you just have to ask nicely, and I'm all yours. "_   

Who was he to say no, knowing full well himself that there was no saving him now that he let you go too far into his head. So instead of walking out of your room, he let himself turn back and kiss you just as he had wanted to the first time he laid eyes on you.

When you woke up the next morning, he was still there, asleep, arms tight around you under the covers as if he had belonged there—in your bed,  _with you_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fridays were cursed, yet Fridays were the only time you could run the long distance, away from reality and into euphoria. It wasn't Johnny Seo alone who lived for play pretends, you did too. Too much perhaps, you weren't really sure.

The time on your clock read 4.16 a.m., it was raining, and you laid on your bed, sleepless, thinking more about the way Taeil had kissed you so passionately that night than you hoped you didn't. You were pretty sure you heard the front door being knocked, but you couldn't care less—you didn't want to see anyone now. Not after you spent last Friday night curled up in bed with Moon Taeil, simply letting your tears fall along empty thoughts and his soothing voice.

No, this Friday was once again, different. You were alone now—Taeil probably ran off to another party, Jungwoo too. And of course, not forgetting Johnny Seo, cool kid, try-hard, somewhere along the line—fuck, as if you cared.

"I know you're in there! " You almost screamed at him to fuck off, but the slur in Johnny's deep voice was evident even behind closed doors; there was no way he was actually going to leave. It was not a minute later when you flung open the front door—him stumbling into you, huge hands scrambling around your waist, face burying itself into your neck—and you did nothing.

The first time he had kissed you was delicate and rough all at once; like delicious flames licking at your heart, passionate yet careful, and then not at all so precautious. He couldn't make up his mind on whether you had to be treated like a porcelain doll, until you had pulled on his white shirt with a small whine—

And he knew, he knew he was gone—gone with the wind, like specks of dust being blown away softly; a midsummer night in which this entire friendship went down in flames, burnt to ashes because he could never see you in such simple shades of grey ever again.

"You're drunk, Youngho. "

You felt it: The twining ivies curling themselves around her heart, slowly but surely dying and dragging down your already heavy heart. Yet, you did nothing else except sink yourself into the whole scenario, digging rather frantically for a small sign of concern—

All you felt was death; the wilting of your infatuation for Seo Youngho and his one too many flaws.

"Oh, love, " he drawled out sweetly, hiding the soft sniffle he'd accidentally let out. "I'm so sorry, please. I was a fool, I realized only later that all I really wanted was you. "

You said nothing, face straight—somehow you had already seen it coming, damn him. Damn Seo Youngho for always hurting you like this—he looked up at you, huge hands rushing to cup your pale cheeks as he pressed both your foreheads together.

The pain of confusion burnt the back of your throat—he pressed his lips onto yours (this time, softly), and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling small tears fall; feeling Seo Youngho's white shirt between your fingers, and tasting the cigarettes and strawberries that were him and only him.

This... thing you had been missing, suddenly it felt wrong and you didn't want it anymore. You realized too late as well that you no longer loved Seo Youngho, that you no longer craved for the masculine presence of him, the familiar taste of painful memories. Instead, you held on to leather jackets and switchblades and soft smiles; of sensible college boys with a hidden wild side, hair dyed dark red, light presence and gentle kisses—

It all rushed up to you, this realization; you pushed him away and locked yourself up in the dark house, back pressed against the door. Your hand reached out for your phone and searched for his number. You found it, Johnny's weak protests sounding from across the door, and you hit dial, pressing the phone to your ear. At the third ring he picked up with a drowsy " _hello_ ", asking you what was with all the shouting rather worriedly. Yet, all you could bring yourself to say was:

" _Taeil, I think I love you._  " 

 

 

— **END** —


End file.
